


The End of All Things

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-28 08:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20061238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: A sudden confession leads Frodo to something he never thought possible.





	The End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nsmorig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsmorig/gifts).

Frodo tried to stand, but his legs would not hold his weight and he was back on the rocks of Mount Doom, which even now seemed to crumble beneath him. 

"Sam?" His voice was barely audible even to his own ears. 

"Mr. Frodo…" With what seemed to be great effort, Sam inched himself to where Frodo lay. Just a short time ago, Frodo remembered, he had carried him up the mountain, so that Frodo could free himself of his burden. He hated how much he missed the ring, his throbbing finger a reminder of what had happened. 

It didn't matter now, though. Death would come soon enough. He wished only that he could go without so many regrets—that he had brought Sam to his death, as well as himself, as well as all he had not said. 

"Sam," he said again, and he felt Sam's hand slide into his. The touch sent warmth coursing through him. "I wish we could have had more time." 

"It doesn't matter, Mr. Frodo," Sam said. "We did it. You did it. The Ring's gone now, and the enemy with it." 

"I don't mean that, Sam." Sam's hand in his was the only thing that mattered, the only thing keeping the breath in his body. "I mean that we should have…" He tried to moisten his lips but his tongue was dry. "Sam, I wish we could have… When this was finished, I was going to—"

He stopped. What was the point of bringing this up now? Nothing would come of it; it would only increase the pain in their final moments. 

But he could not die without saying it, even if nothing could ever come of it. 

"Sam, I would have asked you to marry me."

He forced the words out in a rush, and then there was silence. Frodo's heart seemed to stop. Any reason he could imagine for Sam's silence was one he didn't want to contemplate. 

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said, after the silence had gone on too long. "I didn't meant that—it's…"

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, it's not that." There was a scraping on the ground as Sam managed to drag himself over. "It's too terrible to think about. If we could have… If you would have wanted to…" He let out a barely suppressed sob. 

"Sam." Frodo touched his face fondly. "No need for that now. What I want to know is your answer."

"It's yes, of course, Mr. Frodo." Sam heaved himself up and kissed him. Frodo allowed himself to savor it, no matter the brief chasteness of it. "Yes, I would marry you, if we were ever to get out of here."

And so they lay there together, and Frodo slipped into unconsciousness, heedless even of their rescue.

**

Sam woke with a start, surprised to be in a bed, alive. At first he could not even be sure of that, for where he lay seemed almost like it could be heaven itself. The bed was more comfortable than any he'd ever lain in save at Rivendell and through the window, he could see a city all of white stone. 

He got up slowly, expecting pain, though none came. 

He found Merry outside the door. "Glad to see you up," he said. "We've been taking it in turns to sit up with you. Gimli's with Frodo. Everyone'll be glad to see you and tell you of what's happened."

_Frodo._ Sam had not forgotten him, not for one second, but he had not allowed himself to think about their last conversation on the slopes of Mount Doom. He had thought neither of them would make it off the mountain, but now that he stood safely within the walls of Minas Tirith, where, Merry told him, Aragorn reigned as king, his mind drifted back to Frodo's words. Sam could hardly fathom that Strider could be king, and Merry and Pippin told him of the preparations for Aragorn's coronation. There was much ceremony to come, he gathered, including the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen, but Sam cared only for one thing, one person.

Frodo woke before nightfall, with Sam not having budged from his bedside since the moment he'd sat himself beside him. 

"Sam?" Frodo's eyes fluttered open. Sam's heart was in his throat. He had been thinking of their conversation all day as he'd watched the sun pass across the sky from Frodo's window. He felt as though he'd been given this unexpected gift of Frodo's and his own survival… could they really have what Frodo had spoken of on the mountain while the world burned around them?

"I'm here, Mr. Frodo."

"I am glad to see you, Sam." Frodo's smile was small and weak, but it filled Sam with a surge of hope. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Sam was surprised at the tears that came to his eyes—why should he be crying when everything was going well? "No time at all, Mr. Frodo." 

Frodo sat up, though it obviously took some effort. "Come here, Sam. Let me see you. I am not quite convinced we are both alive."

"We are, Mr. Frodo." He sat next to him on the bed and allowed Frodo to touch his hand, cup his face. "Alive for whatever comes next."

Frodo smoothed his hair. "You must stop calling me Mr. Frodo, if we are going to be married."

Sam let out a shuddering breath. "Do you truly mean that?"

"Of course I do. More than I've ever meant anything." 

Sam closed his eyes as Frodo kissed him. This was how they were found by the other members of the Fellowship, exchanging uncounted kisses, oblivious to the world around them.

**

The decision to marry Sam had been made on the spur of the moment—Frodo frankly doubted he'd ever have had the courage to ask had disposing of the Ring been an easy task, or a task he hadn't had to do at all. Something good had come of it, in the end. The way forward was uncertain; he'd barely envisioned life beyond Mount Doom. But now he knew he would face whatever came with Sam at his side. It gave him hope about returning home, and potentially building a life there. It would not completely fill the space inside him the Ring had taken, but it gave him a plan where he'd had none.

The specifics of the plan weren't firm, but he knew one thing. They would be wed before they left Gondor. It meant not being married in the Shire among those they knew there, but it also meant the ceremony could be attended by the new friends they'd met along their journey, which was perhaps more important. And it would happen as soon as possible. Frodo found that was imperative. He could not wait a single second before he and Sam were married. 

"I reckon they'll understand, the Gaffer and all them," Sam said, as they watched the sun set from the white stone keep of Minas Tirith. "He'd probably say I was putting on airs, being above my station." 

Frodo laid his hand over Sam's. "Nothing of the sort."

"You're not worried about the Sackville-Bagginses, then?"

Frodo laughed. "Compared to Sauron, Lobelia won't be any trouble at all." 

Frodo had not wanted too much attention—he was proud to be overshadowed by Aragorn and Arwen, whose wedding was to be mere weeks after theirs. He'd rejected each one of Merry and Pippin's lavish suggestions, and even the king's own offer that they should have use of the large marble temple in the center of the city. 

"We are small people," Frodo had said. "We would be lost in such a large space." He had agreed, of course, to take a position of honored guest at Aragorn's own wedding. He did not mind such splendor if he weren't the focus of it. 

The night before their wedding, Frodo slipped down the hall and into Sam's room. Sam had been old-fashioned about it, insisting they not spend the night with each other, and as the appointed time grew nearer, that they not even see each other. 

"Are you certain you don't mind, Sam?" he asked, closing the door carefully behind him. 

"This is nearly as bad as when you could go invisible." Sam shook his head. He'd been laying out his clothes for the next day; both of them had had new suits made by the finest tailors in Gondor who were unaccustomed to making clothes so small. "You'd best get back to your own room, Mr. Frodo. Bad luck, you know. And what will people say?" 

Frodo smiled. He could not imagine who would be the ones to gossip about Frodo visiting Sam in the middle of the night. "I can't imagine they would, with a king and queen, and elves, and such to talk about. But I won't stay long. I just want to make sure you're all right with this. Not being married when we get home." 

"Of course I don't mind," Sam said instantly. "It would be a splendid party, I'm sure, if we could do it at Bag End, in the garden, but it wouldn't be the same as the old days, would it? The family might be a little disappointed, but they'll come around. There are enough of us that folks will be glad to not have to go to at least one wedding." 

Frodo smiled, the prospect of attending future Gamgee weddings not one he'd have looked forward to before, but now it seemed that to see Sam's sisters married was what he'd gone on the journey for. 

He kissed Sam's cheek. "Then we shall do it for the people of the Shire, and if they object, that is what we will tell them.

**

The ceremony was a blur to Sam. There were songs and poetry written specifically for them which still seemed to be too much for himself, a simple hobbit who was more at home in the dirt than standing barefoot on a carpet his feet sank into, listening to Gandalf read the ancient words that bound two people to each other. 

Then, the time came for him to pledge himself to Frodo, and the words he spoke seemed as natural as anything in the world. He'd spoken them already, hasn't he, all the way up Mount Doom? This, he decided, was just for show. 

**

"That was quite the wedding, wasn't it? Back home they'd be talking of it for years," Sam said, as they sat at the high table for their wedding supper. "Perhaps best we didn't wait." Aragorn had laughingly agreed to fete his smallest friends in his smallest hall, which was still too big for Sam's taste, but at least it held all of their friends. 

"Indeed." Frodo leaned over and kissed him. He loved seeing Sam's reaction—his broadening grin and the creeping blush that climbed up his neck. 

Frodo turned his attention back to the small company, all contentedly engaged in eating and drinking. For once, he did not feel the heavy weight of dread on his heart. He looked down at his hand. Sam had not even suggested rings, though Frodo knew what he was giving up in that. 

He would just have to ensure the outward display of their marriage, even without rings. For one thing, he was very much looking forward to bringing his new husband home to Bag End. 

Frodo and Sam gamely remained on the dais until the party had wound down. Then they took their leave, Sam's blush growing at Aragorn's knowing look. "I will ensure you have plenty of undisturbed rest," he said, his gaze resting on Merry and Pippin, probably not accidentally. 

They left the hall hand-in-hand and climbed the seemingly endless stairs to their rooms. 

"Frodo?" Sam said suddenly. 

"What is it, Sam?" Frodo never ceased to get a giddy thrill from Sam saying his name. 

"I am very glad to be with you tonight," he said gruffly, as though losing his nerve over what to say and thus lapsing into this awkward bridegroom's speech. 

"I love you, Sam," Frodo said simply. 

He was rewarded with further-reddened ears and a firm kiss that nearly took him off his feet. 

"I love you, too, Mr. Frodo." This time, he did not even mind the honorific. It was an endearment, he realized. 

Frodo smiled and took Sam's hand. He leaned in close to whisper in his ear, glad of Sam's shiver. "Come show me, then." 

It was Sam who pulled him to his room then, and Frodo allowed himself to be pulled along to their next adventure.


End file.
